Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

Before Nash could finish his sentence, Lydia and Bronx happened to arrive at the door.

During my most desperate moments, when I hated myself the most and cut my skin with a knife again and again, or paced on the rooftop edge, I wondered if they would regret their actions if I just disappeared.

Looking at my family in the car on the way to Baltimore, silent and indifferent, I finally understood. They wouldn’t.

I had always known my mother disliked me. She believed my existence had robbed her of the life she could have had.

Before Nash could finish his sentence, Lydia and Bronx happened to arrive at the door.

During my most desperate moments, when I hated myself the most and cut my skin with a knife again and again, or paced on the rooftop edge, I wondered if they would regret their actions if I just disappeared.

Looking at my family in the car on the way. to Baltimore, silent and indifferent, I finally understood. They wouldn’t.

I had always known my mother disliked me. She believed my existence had robbed her of the life she could have had.

My mother was a well–known beauty in her town, having had no prior acquaintance with my father before they married. At that time, she was romantically involved with a kind man, but one evening, she was coerced by my father, who was heavily intoxicated, into a troubling situation.

Fearing social stigma, my mother didn’t report the incident and, feeling trapped, she reluctantly agreed to marry my father, give birth to me, and endure his daily drunkenness and abuse.

It wasn’t until one winter evening, when my father left in a drunken rage and never returned, that our suffering finally came to an end.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

I had hoped to live happily with my mother, but instead, she left me with my grandmother and went to work. It wasn’t until I was five, after my grandmother passed away, that she took me in.

That was when I learned she had remarried. I not only had a new father but also a brother three years older than me, and a sister who had just celebrated her third birthday.

Initially, Lydia, Nash, and I had a good relationship. Nash was thrilled to have another younger sister. He would clumsily braid our hair, teach us to read, and walk us to school.

I adored them. I had never felt so valued before.

I had a brother, a sister, a mother who, though distant, still cared for me, and a stepfather who seemed kind and learned.

But then everything changed.

Nash began to look at me with unfamiliar eyes, saying the most cruel things. Lydia led the bullying at school, throwing away my books and assignments, slapping me in the bathroom, and locking me in a dark supply room after school.

I didn’t understand why. I hadn’t done anything. I was the victim, yet they treated me as if I were the abuser.

I just wanted to escape this endless abyss.

When my mother and the others arrived, they were greeted by two young police officers. The older of the two, after some consideration, began:

“Although we have found the body and have done our best to sew it up, there are still some missing parts. It is possible that…”

Bronx, with a trembling voice, asked, “Possible what?”

“Possible that the suspect cooked and consumed parts of the victim.”

“You should prepare yourselves for this.”

Perhaps my mother and the others were too calm, so calm that it seemed as if the person lying there had nothing to do with them. On the way to the room, the officers glanced back several times, as if realizing their detachment was genuine.

The room had a large light that made my body appear excessively pale. disliked such harsh lighting; I preferred warmer tones, as I feared the cold.

The smell of the body was unbearable, especially since I had been dead for so long.

I watched with them as they viewed my body, which was unrecognizable and bloated. Oh, I also noticed that under the white sheet, the place where my left leg should have been was empty, and if they looked closer, they would find both my hands missing.

“The suspect confessed that while the victim was still alive, she were locked in a cold storage. Every few days, the suspect would come and remove a body part or organ.”

“The suspect, Jeff, is a local from Baltimore and has committed five heinous murder cases in the past four years. Before killing, he would observe the victims for several months to ensure his actions went undetected!”

“According to his previous habits, he would bury the victims immediately. Recently, heavy rains in Baltimore washed out other victims buried in the Catoctin Mountains to the west of the city, which is how we were finally able to locate the suspect.”

“The reason for freezing the victim in the cold storage and consuming parts of them, rather than burying them like the others, was that after torturing the victim, the suspect discovered she was pregnant.”